


pall

by ronsenboobi (snewvilliurs)



Series: arroway family adventures in eorzea 2: stormblood boogaloo [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Emotionally Repressed Ala Mhigans, Established Relationship, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Non-WoL Adventurer, Patch 5.2: Echoes of a Fallen Star Spoilers, Post-Revolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24342850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snewvilliurs/pseuds/ronsenboobi
Summary: of old wounds, justice, and acceptance. as ala mhigo continues on its path as a free nation, the commander of the ala mhigan military prepares to meet with the garlean defector known as shadowhunter.“We choose our friends, but it is not so simple to choose who is the enemy of our enemy,” Raubahn said, too sensible; breathing too evenly.
Relationships: Raubahn Aldynn/Warrior of Light
Series: arroway family adventures in eorzea 2: stormblood boogaloo [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1499351
Kudos: 6





	pall

**Author's Note:**

> this was written in the middle of the night when i hadn't even played 5.2 yet, but i saw my friends' reactions over the way the first quest was handled and got mad too after watching spoilers, so i had to try and write something that made it sit better with me. 
> 
> featuring morgana arroway, a sellsword and former member of the ala mhigan resistance.

“What is it?”

Raubahn sighed and pressed two fingers to his brow, letting the parchment fall limply back onto his desk. “A message from Maxima,” he said, his voice taking on a somber note that usually did not accompany talk of the defector.

He respected Maxima—Morgana could not go so far as to say she felt the same, but she hadn’t spent the last twenty years attending matters of state. It was enough for her to simply accept that his intentions in standing against the Empire were genuine. She didn’t doubt his honesty; only his character.

“Since when does he send letters? He could have just walked over.”

“He must be keenly aware of the sensitive nature of his information and the resulting proposition.” Raubahn gazed up at Morgana. She still sat perched on the edge of his desk with both feet on a chair, but she wasn’t reaching for the letter. “I believe he’s afraid of you.”

Morgana snorted. “Then I’m doing my job right. So, what is it exactly that he’s too craven to come suggest in person?”

“He means to arrange a meeting to discuss information brought forth by another defector from the Empire. The word is he’s recently returned from the imperial capital having witnessed events that will have repercussions throughout Eorzea—and, sooner rather than late, Ala Mhigo.”

“Are we to make friends with every grease-slick rat that slips out from Garlemald’s bowels?” Morgana asked with a huff, crossing her arms. She considered the lingering furrow in Raubahn’s brow, then frowned herself. “So let him come to the border—not Ala Mhigo itself. We meet him at Ghimlyt, make certain he’s stripped of weapons and watched when he so much as takes a piss, listen to what he has to say, and turn him back out once it’s done. Is Priscus entirely certain it’s good intel?”

“He doesn’t need to be,” Raubahn said.

He leaned back as he spoke, and Morgana’s curiosity got the better of her: she put her fingertips to the parchment to slide it towards her, tilting her head, and gave the letter little more than a cursory glance.

The chair under her feet fell over as she moved off the desk and to her feet, snapping into a wild-eyed fury.

“ _No,_ ” she said thickly.

A more reasonable woman might have seen the titanic restraint it took Raubahn not to let his own anger be swept up into joining hers, but Morgana had never been one to contain herself with reason. Especially not in the face of the name _Baelsar_.

“We choose our friends, but it is not so simple to choose who is the enemy of our enemy,” he said, too sensible; breathing too evenly.

“That man will never be anything but our enemy!” Morgana snapped. “You cannot be considering this. Raubahn. Please.”

“If Gaius Baelsar—who has taken up the cause of hunting Ascians as few but the Scions have—comes to us offering information on ‘dire happenings’ at the very heart of the Empire, we would be fools not to listen.”

Morgana shook her head again. Her fingers itched for the weight of a blade, but where might she turn it? Perhaps Maxima had been wise to keep his proposition to writing.

“I would drown in my own blood rather than to allow Gaius _van_ fucking Baelsar to step foot on Gyr Abanian soil again.”

“And how would that punish him?”

“ _Don’t._ ”

“I spoke to Lord Hien after he resurfaced as Shadowhunter in the Burn. I do not believe he exaggerated when he said he nearly dislocated Sairsel’s arms to hold him back from making an attempt on Baelsar’s life. How did that punish him?”

“It would have if the little princeling had bloody _let_ him,” Morgana scowled.

“We do not have the luxury of pride, Morgana,” Raubahn said, his voice rough with bitterness. “Ul’dah has taught me that.”

“Ul’dah has taught you to sit and take it like a beaten dog,” Morgana said. She regretted the words as soon as she spoke them, but it was pride that kept apologies from her mind even as Raubahn’s jaw tightened. At the very least, she forced a slow breath through her nose and swallowed, so that her next words might come better measured. “How can you accept this?”

“I accept nothing. I am _enraged,_ ” he said slowly. 

She frowned at him; he continued.

“There is no unwriting the last twenty years. There is not a single act of Baelsar’s that will be forgotten when he stands before us. He will never be able to fool himself otherwise—just as we cannot fool ourselves that refusing a mere conversation could ever be enough to make it right.”

Pride would not take down the Wall; anger would not keep it from ever having been built.

Morgana averted her gaze, turning it up at the griffin standard behind Raubahn’s desk. For a time, it had been the emblem of the mad king; she remembered the banners burning in the streets when the rebellion rose. None who fought then forgot, but it was the very same standard that they hung outside the gate to Little Ala Mhigo once stark Garlean whites flew all across Gyr Abania.

She almost understood the reason that guided Raubahn—almost. 

“And justice?”

“There was a time when a man could walk away from his own hanging if the rope broke before he died—because the sentence merely said ‘hanged by the neck.’ It was considered that the sentence had been carried out, and that it was Nymeia’s mercy,” Raubahn said. He sounded as though he were speaking more to himself than to Morgana. “Baelsar has survived his first hanging, but I would not call it Nymeia’s mercy. We have learned to give the sentence ‘hanged by the neck until dead.’” 

That was little comfort to Morgana, but it was not the commander’s duty to comfort her. And for now, that was all Raubahn could be.

“I’ll request the attendance of the Scions,” Raubahn added after a moment, in the face of her silence. “I won’t have you stand in that room; I swear to you.”

Morgana barely even heard herself speak; she did not know what moved her towards the decision. “No. I want to look into his eyes.”

And when Gaius Baelsar came to Ala Mhigo once more, Morgana stood at Raubahn’s side—at his left, as she always did—and they both looked Baelsar in the eye, unbroken and unblinking.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! ❤ drop me a line if you'd like, and you can also find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/vulpinewood).
> 
> (originally posted on [tumblr](https://farplane.tumblr.com/post/612246355409289216/pall).)


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